Impossible Dream
by Pereybere
Summary: A routine examination tells Brennan that she can’t have what she never wanted in the first place. But we all want what we can’t have… right? ON HOLD
1. Inconvenient News

**Title: **Impossible Dream

**Summary: **A routine examination tells Brennan that she can't have what she never wanted in the first place. But we all want what we can't have… right?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. They belong to 20th Century Fox (who, might I add, own all the good shows).

**Rating: **I think we can all already guess what this is rated. M.

**A/N: **When I was in school, for my English Aural examination I read a story that I had written about a woman who miscarried. My English teacher asked me if I knew someone who had personally experienced it because she had, and I had written the emotions so well. I never knew anyone who miscarried, I had used my imagination purely. I hope I can write this, just as well.

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"Bones!" Booth called, jogging the steps to the gallery. Brennan pushed aside what remained of her sandwich, and tucked her notebook into her bag, straightening her spine. "What are you working on?" Booth asked, stopping at the top of the stairs.

"Some notes for my novel," Brennan said vaguely, dropping her eyes to the file in his hand. "What's that?" He sat next to her, eyeing her half-eaten turkey and cranberry sandwich on wholegrain bread with interest. She picked it off the table, and thrust it into his hand. "May I?" She asked, taking the manila folder in exchange for her lunch.

Booth took a bite, while she turned the first page. "We already have an ID on the body," he said. "The woman had an wallet lying beneath her. We assume it was tucked into her clothes, which have long since rotted away. What we need to know is how long have the bones been buried and, if you can get your little techno-wizard assistant to find out what the murder weapon was, we'd really appreciate it." Brennan glanced up.

"We?" She asked.

"Yeah. Agent Taylor and I," Booth scrunched the sandwich wrapper into a tight ball and tossed it towards the trash-can. It hit the rim, and fell in. "Yes!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands. Brennan tilted her head.

"Who is Agent Taylor?" She asked, glancing down at the file again. She mentally noted the visible fracture along the skull, and the odd positioning of the body.

"He's one of the lead agents in the investigation. I was pulled on board because of my… association with you." Brennan grunted.

"Flattered, I'm sure," she mumbled, flipping to the next page. "Pulled on board against your will?" Booth chuckled.

"Are you kidding? When given either two weeks of updating my paper work or working in the field… well, needless to say I'd endure a few days with the Squint Squad if it meant foregoing the purgatory that is administration." Brennan glanced sideways at him, shaking her head as she did. "No offence, of course. It's not really so much 'enduring' as…"

"You're digging yourself into a deeper hole, Booth," they both glanced up at the tall, sandy haired man at the top of the stairs. He looked harassed. "Do you know how difficult it is to get into this building?" Booth half shrugged.

"I know, it's like the Pentagon. Samuel Taylor this is Dr Temperance Brennan. She's going to solve your case for you." Brennan took his outstretched hand, smiling politely. When the introductions were over, she turned to Booth.

"Not today, though. I have a medical appointment at two, so you won't have to ensure my company any longer." Taylor laughed and Booth growled.

"Now you know I didn't mean it like that. You're taking it all out of context." Brennan tucked the file under her arm and rolled her eyes. "Are you alright?" Booth asked, following her along the gallery to the stairs. She frowned. "No, it's just… you mentioned a medical appointment. You're not sick are you?" She waved her hand dismissively.

"No, routine check up. Hey, I'll pass this unto Zach, and he can start work on it. When will the bones be delivered?" Booth grinned, pointing over the railing to where two lab-coated men pushed a gurney of dirty bones across the laboratory. "What if I had said no?" Brennan asked, glaring. Booth laughed, the sound attracting the attention of two scientists below.

"Aw Bones, you can't say no to me. Anyway, I'll check in tomorrow. Speak to you then, yeah?" She nodded, descending the stairs to the lab below.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Temperance, how are you?" Dr Williamson asked, offering her the chair that faced his desk. "I'm sorry that we had to call you back. I know you're very busy." Brennan nodded, distinctly aware that every second she sat making small talk with her doctor was precious time she was missing in the lab.

"Yes, Dr Williamson," she said, smiling tightly. The gynaecologist was well into his fifties, with a soft manner and a pleasant smile. He relaxed her, and made her feel like everything was okay. But today he was wringing his hands together and drinking gulps from his water glass.

"Temperance," he said at last. "Your smear results came in last week." She nodded, folding her legs.

"Yes, the lady mentioned it. Were the tests unclear? It's happened before…" her doctor shook his head.

"The tests were clear, Temperance. Unfortunately the results aren't what we'd have liked. There were no cancerous cells. But your fallopian tubes are blocked. If you're trying to conceive…" Brennan shook her head.

"I'm not."

"You'd only have a thirty five percent chance of success. If you want children-"

"I don't."

"Temperance, _please_…" Williamson looked pained. "You need to think carefully about this. You're still a young woman, and if you begin immediately then you may have a chance. But… if you're sure you have no desire to have a child…" He spread his fingers wide with a shrug. Brennan straightened in her chair.

"Well, thank you, doctor…" she stood, smiling tightly. "I'll think about what you said…" _When I am finished finding out why my latest victim died. When I am time to actually worry about it. I'm too busy for children. _She almost shuddered at the thought. Not being able to conceive was hardly the worst news she could have gotten. She never wanted babies, anyway. She had no maternal instinct. Or any desire to find one.

Her gynaecologist opened the door, smiling patiently. "I understand you're a busy woman, Temperance," he said again. "But I recommend you make time for this." She wanted to retort that he had no idea how busy she was. Nor did he have a persistent FBI agent coming into his office every other day asking for updates and speedy findings. She nodded.

"I will," she promised, making a mental note to do just that - right after 'put out the trash' and 'proof read chapter nine'.

Getting into her car, she turned the key in the ignition and sighed. No children. Ever. She should have felt robbed, shouldn't she? But she didn't. Aside from the dull ache of shock, she felt nothing.

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Again, the introduction chapter to explain what's happening. Hope you liked. Let me know…

Oh, promise some serious Brennan angst and Booth comfort… ha… and some Brennan and Booth sex, too. Of course she really wants her baby!


	2. Work as Usual

**Title: **Impossible Dream

**Rating: **This is an M rated story.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters, or the Jeffersonian. Shame... I'd love to wander about the Jeffersonian for awhile...

**A/N: **Hi there! Thanks to everyone to read the first chapter. I hope you'll all continue to read!

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"Good afternoon, Dr Brennan," Zach said, removing his protective glasses. "Booth called earlier..."

"Harassing you again?" Brennan asked, buttoning her lab-coat. Her assistant half-shrugged. "What did he say?"

"He wanted to know if we had a defintive time that the bones have been buried yet," Zach replied, turning on his chair and watching her as she moved across the lab. She looked different. Less like her usual keen herself. "I..." he paused, watching as for the first time in his months at the Jeffersonian, Dr Brennan faded out. "I checked with Hodgins and he found traces of fibres on the bones, and together we have decided that they were probably first buried twenty years ago."

She glanced up. "First?" Zach nodded.

"The bones were moved approximately five years ago." Brennan turned towards the skeleton that her assistant had positioned on the gurney, and realised that the body being moved concurred with the odd way in which it was found. "Hodgins theorised-"

"Hodgins should know better than to theorise," Brennan interrupted, shaking her head. "Theories don't get convictions. Hodgins, you and Booth should all know that." Zach frowned, and shrugged when she turned her back. She wasn't normally quite so abrupt. "Did you tell Booth what you found?" She asked, turning.

"Yes. He said he'd be over this afternoon..." He wasn't supposed to be back until the next day.

_Great, _Brennan thought, _Super intuitive Booth poking his nose around. _She didn't need him asking questions, right now. Especially not when she wasn't even sure how she was supposed to be feeling herself. It was bad enough that Angela would soon be prying, but Booth too? She sighed.

"Did you find anything else?" Brennan bent over the skull, examining the fracture that she'd noticed in the photograph. She noticed the point of impact, at the base of the skull and ran her fingertips over the mark. The woman had been hit on the back of the head. The breakage alone was enough to indicate that it could have killed her.

"Well I noticed that the right femur is fractured too. She was probably beaten before being killed. Or afterward..." Brennan ignored his conjecture, pulling off her gloves. "Do you need me to do anything else?" Zach asked, hands clasped behind him, rocking on his toes like an eager puppy.

"You could take measurements for the skull fracture and tell me what weapons would match..." Brennan said, dropping her gloves into the trash can. "I will be in my office if anyone needs me." She sincerely hoped no one did. The longer she stood above the bones, she more she felt as though she were a heartless monster for not feeling more towards Dr Williamson's news.

Her office had always offered a bizarre kind of solace when she was stressed or tired or even just upset. She sat at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen, chapter nine was a blur of letters she didn't even recognise. Shaking her head, Brennan clicked her tongue, chiding herself for her inability to be focused. Personal problems never made their way into her work. She had a strict ethic that, when she was at home, she could think about all her problems she had, but until then, she had other things to be getting on with; namely, proof reading her novel.

Deciding that she would prefer the sunlight from the gallery, she printed chapter nine and searched for a pencil on her desk. Finding none, Brennan opened her drawer and searched through the paperclips, shoved aside the stapler and wondered at why she had two unopened packets of Post-Its and not a single pencil.

Her fingers fumbled over the packet of pills, which already had four missing. She ran her thumb across the little blue tablet and she felt an unexpected wave of anger. For years, she'd used birth control - been on the pill and, in the end, she'd been wasting her time because she was never destined to get pregnant anyway. If only she'd known... she wouldn't have had to endure the hassle of trying to remember never to miss a single pill or, maintain her prescription.

Sighing, Brennan shook her head. She was being foolish. Blocked fallopian tubes developed. Ten years ago the risk was there. She'd been sensible and, had she not been, she could have had a child now. A baby would have screwed up all her plans, so there was no need to regret her choices. A child or a career? She had always known which one she wanted, and nothing had changed. Jesus, she didn't want a kid now, either.

Children needed stability and she couldn't offer that. Nor could she offer a child a life filled with trivia - only intelligence and she didn't think it was fair. _She_ had chosen a life of intelligence after being given the option. But she wouldn't be a good mother because she didn't have the know-how. She wouldn't know intuitively what a baby wanted when it cried or, how to soothe it when it was hurting. She had no maternal instinct, but, as she had decided in the doctor's office, she had no desire to find it, neither.

Popping the blue pill from the packet, she uncapped a bottle of water and downed it, certain that she was doing the right thing by ignoring Dr Williamson's concern. He'd urged her to consider her choices, and by that, she knew he wanted her to consider anonymous donors and raising a child without a second parent. She had wanted to scoff at him then, and she allowed herself the privilege now. Did he honestly think she'd be able to juggle two careers and a baby? Christ, she hadn't had a stable relationship in a very long time - and settling down was another thing that was not on her agenda.

Babies and marriage were not for people who had twelve-hours-a-day jobs. When she did have sex it was for pleasure not procreation. No. She was making the right decision.

She wondered why her chest felt so tight, at her choice.

"Bones!" Her door flew open and she tossed the pills into the drawer and slammed it shut. "What's going on...?" Booth glanced down at her trembling hands and up at her guilty features and was instantly curious. She shook her head.

"Nothing. Do you have a pencil? I don't have a single pencil in this office." She rummaged fruitlessly in her desk-tidy again, then shrugged her shoulders. "No, not one." Booth frowned, his brow drawn together as he contemplated her curious behaviour. Then, he shrugged too.

"No, I don't," he said. "Zach's says the bones were moved...?" Brennan nodded.

"Yes... Hodgins found evidence of that," she said, gathering the pages she'd printed. She snagged a pen, deciding that beggars couldn't be choosers, and tucked it into her lab coat. "He said the bones are twenty years old. How did you end up with a twenty year old case, Booth?" He shrugged.

"I told you, Bones, I didn't... Taylor ended up with it and..." Brennan nodded.

"Yeah, yeah... you got dragged into it. Well, where is he?" She glanced behind the doorway and found that Booth was alone.

"Talking to Annabeth Kinder's family," he said as she brushed past him into the lab. "Is that your novel?" Booth asked, snagging her arm. She paused, pressing the printed sheets to her chest, raising the tapered eyebrow skyward. "Oh yeah... intensely private and all that..." Booth shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Hey Bones, your Squints have planned dinner at Wong Fu's tonight... you going?" She wondered if she was permitted to enjoy herself or whether she was meant to be regretting her infertility...

_Not infertility_, she corrected, _thirty five percent chance..._

"Maybe. I have a lot of work to do." Booth took her hint.

"Okay, I'll hang out with wacko-zacho and you do your writing thing..." Brennan frowned.

"Wacko-zacho?" She asked.

"Yeah... like Wacko-Jacko only... yeah... you don't get it." He shook his head, and mumbling something under his breath. Brennan sighed. This was exactly what she'd been thinking about. How could she regret not having kids? She didn't understand pop-culture references and she couldn't be expected to teach a child things like that.

_Yes Temperance, _she thought. _You're decision was always the right one_.


	3. A Friend's Advice

**Title: **Impossible Dream

**Rating: **This is an M rated story.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Unfortunately. Ah...

**A/N: **I hope everyone likes this.

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"Bones? You alright?" She straightened in her seat and took a swig of beer.

"I'm fine," Brennan replied, forcing herself to smile. She refrained from her 'why do you ask?' because Booth would be likely to launch into a spiel about why he thought she wasn't okay and she'd have to rapidly find a way to fire down his theories without sounding defensive. She knew only too well what Booth was like.

Taylor had joined them, watching the Squint Squad with wide-eyes and the occasional chuckle. Booth commented often that, Zach was alright, really but, alcohol made him more intelligent and therefore, double the pain in the ass. Angela was dancing, gyrating and grinding her hips, to Hodgins' delight and Brennan was not enjoying herself. She felt like a sour-grape.

"Yeh," Booth whispered, peeling at the label on his beer bottle. "I see the lies, Bones. I see them form inside your brilliant mind and then come to life in your mouth. You should probably just tell the truth?" The track changed, and Angela stopped dancing, Hodgins stopped smirking, Zach stopped talking and everything around her seemed to halt while Booth stared into her eyed, half-drunken. She shifted, breaking his gaze.

"I never took you for the paranoid type," she commented, necking half the bottle. "But I have always known you were nosy and liked to pry into things that are none of your business..." He looked horrified, his lips parting in a stunned protest.

"Me? _Me_? Who's the one that asks every five minutes about my past as a sniper? Who is the one who never misses an opportunity to dig a little?" Angela murmured her agreement with Booth and Brennan fired her a seething glare. "Asking one little question, which was really only me being kind, is hardly a crime, is it?" Brennan knocked her bottle against the edge of the table, then twisted the beer mat until the cardboard broke in two.

"It is when you call me a liar," she said, turning her gaze on him. Booth shrugged.

"Fine. You know what? I know when my concern is unwanted, so, I'll leave it..." Zach began to talk again. "Anyone for more beer?" Booth asked, slipping off his chair and removing his wallet. Everyone accepted, except Brennan, who pushed forward her empty bottle, and stood.

"I'm going now," she said, turning to her friends. Angela frowned, brushing aside her dark hair, watching as her best friend spun on her heel, pivoting to face her partner. Booth stepped back a little, affording himself so distance from the woman that glared at him with icy eyes. "Tomorrow?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Tomorrow, Bones. Rest well." She resented the unspoken implication that she needed to rest. She was fine! Damn fine! And sympathy was not what she required, neither. If Booth wanted to pry into someone's life, he could look elsewhere.

She slung her jacket over her shoulder and strode towards the door, a fuzzy intoxication of beer tingling inside her chest. She stepped into the October evening, breathing in the crisp cleanness of the air and tilting her head with the breeze. Halloween was just around the corner, and she found herself thinking about when she was a kid, she and Russell would do the age old activity of Trick or Treating. Nostalgia gripped her, and she smiled at the cloudless sky. Being a kid was fun. No worries. Until her parents died, she lived a life that was very much filled with enjoyment and happiness.

Pulling her jacket over her arms she buttoned it over her chest and thought about all her Halloweens since her parents had died. All of her holidays, actually. When was the last time she enjoyed Christmas? When was the last time she celebrated Thanksgiving? Her life for over a decade and been ruled by, first her studies and then her career.

"Sweetie?" She sighed, closing her eyes in frustration when Angela dropped her hand to her shoulder and stepped before her. "What's wrong?" Brennan shook her head, slowly, opening her eyes to see that her best friend had the same disbelieving concern that Booth had been showing just moments before. Yet Angela didn't intimidate her, as Booth did. Angela didn't unnerve her and make her feel things she shouldn't.

"Nothing, Ange... just thinking about stuff..." Brennan said, thrusting her hands into her pocket. She felt strangely emotionally - not weepy, just odd. As though thoughts and memories were creeping into her mind and she was having a hard time processing them all.

"Your parents?" Angela guessed, her arms peppered with gooseflesh because she wore no jacket and the October air was dipping rapidly. In another few weeks, the seasonal frost would appear. Brennan shrugged.

"Yes..." she said. "My parents..." Angela rubbed her skin, her breath coming from her mouth in white clouds.

"And?" Brennan laughed quietly, toeing at a loose stone with her boot.

"Where did you learn to be so... perceptive, Angela?" She asked, shaking her head. Her friend merely shrugged with a wide grin. The mood shifted, and became sombre within a mere second. Brennan breathed in, enjoying how cool the air was inside her lungs. How clean and pure. Everything around her seemed sharper, fresher and yet, barren at the same time. Autumn was a barren season. Where life began to decay and the long, desolate months of winter lay just beyond. But Brennan liked the prospect.

"Sweetie?" Angela prompted as a breeze fluttered around them and crispy brown leaves, tinged with yellow and cinamon red whirled around them. She watched as they blew down an alley way and landed like over-sized, grotestque confetti on the dirty passage way. A poor man's confetti, Brennan thought.

"I went to the doctor's today," she said at last. "The results from my routine test came back and my OBGYN says I only have a thirty five percent chance of concieiving a baby..." Angela looked horrified, but Brennan couldn't understand what the big deal was. "It's okay, Ange... it's not like I ever wanted it." Her friend shook her head, her eyes wide, as if in disbelief.

"Honey, how can you be so detached? Wouldn't it have been nice to have at least had an option?" Brennan shrugged.

"I'm not meant to have children, Angela. This is just proof that I was making the right choice in life, all along. People are always trying to convince me how great children are. That I would love motherhood, but... I wouldn't." She was struck by how odd it was that she wasn't even certain in what she was saying. She shook her head. "I really wouldn't." Angela had her disbelieving face again. "I'm tired, and I was hoping to get some of my novel written tonight," Brennan said, kicking away the gravelly stone she'd been toeing. "I'll speak to you tomorrow, okay?" Angela nodded.

"Sure, sweetie." As her friend began to walk away, Angela felt a strange sadness. "Bren? You might want to think about your options. When you're fifty and alone... you might wish you'd made another decision." Brennan wondered why everyone was advising that she consider her options.

As she turned to look at her friend, she saw Booth in the doorway and wondered how much he'd heard. If he'd been witness to everything she said to Angela, she could be certain he'd jump on the band-wagon and encourage her to give up her career for motherhood and diapers. Brennan sighed.

"I don't need to think," she said pointedly. "I know what I want."


	4. The Greatest Weakness

**Title: **Impossible Dream

**Rating: **This is an M rated story.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. And I don't even have a stalker to lay claim to.

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I am trying to get into character here, and imagine what this situation would be like. I hope I can succeed, but unfortunately the most heart-felt things are the hardest to write. Bear with me, please.

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_The Greatest Weakness_

She wasn't going to get into a state about it.

Despite Booth's constant meddling, she wasn't going to break down. He'd tried every technique in a week, to make her break her silence. Even inviting her to join Parker and himself for an evening of crazy Trick of Treating. She'd played him at his own game, and agreed. And now she was seriously regretting her lack of thought. How did it benefit her? How did her insanity benefit anyone but Booth?

Standing now, watching his SUV pull into her street, she felt her stomach knot. It wasn't the sight of Booth that made her nerves twitch. It was the wriggling four year old in the gruesome monster mask that had her on edge. She didn't cope with kids, well. There was so much attention to be given. And their innocence was so easily snatched away.

He honked the horn and hung his head out the window. "C'mon, Bones! I have a kid eager for candy here!" She sucked a deep breath into her lungs and prayed to a God she didn't even believe in. Then she mentally kicked her own ass because, she'd treaded war-torn countries, learned three martial arts and managed to work in a laboratory with Jack Hodgins for years. She _could_ handle a kid. It would be insane if she couldn't.

Parker smiled at her when she got into the SUV and thrust a still-wrapped Chubba Chubb, cola flavoured lollipop into her hand. "It's yummy," was all he said, taking his mask off, his cheeks rounded with the one he sucked earnestly. Brennan smiled tightly.

"Thank you, Parker," she said, turning to Booth with a scowl. "I am extremely opposed to putting anything that is one hundred percent sugar based into my mouth," she said, twirling the stick between her fingers. "If it were any other holiday, I would not do this." Booth glanced sideways at her, shaking his head.

"Bones… you know you're boring, right? I mean… deathly boring?" She looked offended, tearing the blue wrapper off the lollipop. "If you don't want it…" she slipped it between her teeth and stated smugly. "You ready for a night of intensive kiddie fun?" Booth asked, reaching into the back seat to tickle his son's belly. Parker squealed appropriately, and Brennan winced. Were all kids so noisy?

"I'm not sure…" she admitted, removing the lollipop and examining how the hardened sugar cracked along the edge. "I haven't trick or treated in years." Booth laughed, turning back to the road.

"Don't worry, Bones, the rules haven't changed since the eighties. You will get loads of candy." Parker squealed out again.

"Candy!" He said, swinging his little legs and grinning crazily, the green horned monster mark propped atop his dark mop of hair. His eyes were astoundingly wide, a mirror image of Booth's. When he grinned, his features morphed into a perfect adaptation of the man who sat next to her. She acknowledged the family resemblance with a little smile.

"He likes junk food…" Brennan commented. "And you, who apparently eats right…" Booth glared.

"Weren't you ever a kid once?" He asked, his features softening at the memory. Brennan shrugged.

"Yes… until when I was fifteen I was forced to become an instant adult…." She sounded weaker than she felt. She was a strong believer in what didn't kill her, made her stronger and raising herself and finding a striving determination had been nothing if not a good thing. She shook her head. "That sounded… I'm not a victim, Booth," he turned his head, the passing street lamps reflecting a sympathy that he tried and failed to hide. "Not in anything," Brennan added.

He glanced at his son in the rear-view mirror, and she followed his gaze, noting the child's rosy cheeked grin and twinkling eyes. He bubbled with excitement as he crunched on his lollipop. Brennan twirled hers between her fingers.

"No one can accuse you of being a victim," her partner conceded. "But sometimes strength is our greatest weakness." Brennan frowned, brushing her hair from her forehead and touching the sticky candy with her finger. She drew her fingertip between her lips and sucked the sugary cola away.

"That doesn't make sense, Booth," she said. "Strength cannot be a weakness. It's… a contradiction." And he knew how much Brennan hated contradictions. He snagged the lollipop from her hand and pulled it into his mouth. She didn't protest. In fact, she was quite grateful to be rid of it.

"Sometimes, when we try to be strong, we are at the greatest risk of forgetting to feel," he said, pulling his SUV to the curb in a quiet residential DC suburb. "And when that happens, strength is the greatest foe." Brennan glanced at Parker again, he was watching their exchange, as though he understood what they talked about. His childish innocence was endearing – especially when he grinned at her and offered her another lollipop. She politely declined.

"Ah," she said at last, turning to Booth. "This is about the 'baby' thing that everyone has been dancing around…" she pressed her fingers to her temples. "I knew that's what this whole outing was about. Is it not enough that I made a conscious and mature decision to _not_ have children, even before I found out I couldn't…?" Booth lifted his finger.

"You still can," he corrected. "And I think you're building a dam around your feelings to protect yourself against the truth that you're so afraid to admit." She folded her arms, tilting her chin in defiance.

"I am a campaigner for truth," she replied. "It's you who is afraid to admit the truth. Not just personally, but professionally, too," she paused, looking at her feet, then at the cloudless sky outside. "Look, Booth, this is my business. It's my choice and I _choose _not to have children. Kids are lovely and endearing but I don't have the right components to raise a child. Nor do I have the time, and, if I've learnt anything in my life, it's that children need a lot of time when they're growing up." When she went to open the door, Booth flicked the switch and the doors locked simultaneously around her. Except for Parker's. His door was already locked. Father's intuition, Brennan supposed.

"People acquire the right components as they go along," he reasoned. "And people _make_ time for their kids. Listen to me, Bones, I'm not going to frog-march you down to the nearest donor bank and demand that you have children but please, _please_ just think about the choice you're making." She picked at her fingernail, lifting her eyes to his. She wanted to be angry at him. She wanted to tell him again to mind his own damn business, and she should have, too. But he spoke to her with a desperation – as though he really believed she were making a mistake.

"Being told that your chances of having children is slim is quite something to comprehend, Booth. I understand your concern and I will take on board everything you said, but for now, I'd like to have one evening where infertility is not playing on the back of my mind. Okay?" Booth straightened, unlocking the door.

"You are _not_ infertile, Bones," he said. "And should you change your mind, you know I'd be there, right…?" Brennan chuckled, watching as Parker wriggled out of his seat and repositioned his monster mask.

"Argh!" He cried, turning his fingers into hooks and leaning over Brennan's shoulder. She feigned fear, gasping loudly and shielding her face. "Daddy, am I scary?" Parker asked, peering through the holes in the rubber, at his father. Booth smiled.

"You sure are!" Parker reached for his bag and opened the car door, launching out unto the sidewalk. Booth smiled, his eyes fondly following his son's energetic movements towards the nearest suburban house. "Just remember I'm here, Bones," he said again. She thrust open her own door.

"What, Booth? You offering to make a donation? I didn't think we were that close." Leaping from the car, she followed Booth's son to the front door of number 94 Perfect-Family-Life Avenue and listened as his sweet, childlike voice announced '_Trick or Treat?_' to the laughing couple behind the door.

_This is not the life I want_, she insisted to herself, reminding herself to smile at all times. But as the pressure mounted from her friends and her colleague, she found it was getting harder and harder to accomplish.


End file.
